As the Sparks Fly Upward (31 page)

“That's what the Spaniards are calling it, but they'll find out differently soon enough.”

Adam stayed for a while and talked about the coming war, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Finally he arose and said, “I've got to go and see the admiral, and I know we'll be sailing soon. Would it be all right if Heather stayed on with you?” Heather had gone back to Adam's house after a long visit, but Adam said, “She's cut off from all the news living in our house in the country, so it would be nice if she could be with you until I get back.”

“Of course.” Colin hesitated and seemed embarrassed. “We have plenty of room, don't we, Twyla?”

“Certainly,” Twyla said at once, but something in her began to grow cold. “She'll be welcome,” she forced herself to say.

“I knew I could depend on you two! Now, I must go.”

Colin stopped him. “Wait, Adam, I've been doing some experimenting. You know the popular treatment for a wound.”

“Yes, pour boiling oil in it.”

“That's right, but I've discovered that that treatment doesn't do any good. As a matter of a fact, it does harm.”

“But that's what we've always done.”

“You sound like the doctors at the college! All they can say is: ‘We've always done it this way, so we must keep on doing it this way.'”

Adam stared at his brother. “What would you want us to do for wounded men?”

“It's very simple, Adam. After the last battle, I had to treat eleven badly wounded men. Dr. Teague and I treated half with boiling oil and the other with nothing. The ones with boiling oil almost died, but the others did much better. Stop and think about it, Adam. How would you feel if I took boiling oil and poured it over your arm, even with no wound?”

Adam flinched at the thought. “Not pleasant.”

“Please talk to the admiral and tell him what I've said.”

“I think you'd better tell him yourself,” Adam said quickly.

“I'll be glad to do that. You'll be leaving right away, will you?”

“I think so. I'll bring Heather over.” Adam came over and kissed Twyla on the cheek. “I knew I could count on you, as always.” This put the smile back on her face, then Adam left to go see the admiral.

“I worry about him, Colin. It's so dangerous—all that fighting!”

“So do I,” Colin soberly agreed. “We'll have to take care of his wife. At least we can do that much for him.”

After Heather came, Twyla continued to work with Colin on the additions to the new book. She was aware that Heather often drew Colin away from the practice, which was unusual for him, for he'd always been diligent in his care of patients. Now Heather always seemed to find something for him to do, and Colin often neglected his work.

Twyla saw more and more evidence that Heather had no love for her husband. Until Adam set sail he stayed with them, but as soon as he was called away on one of Drake's raids, there was a change in Heather. She grew secretive, and quite by accident Twyla heard one of the maids whispering to another, “That Lady Heather, she's got a man.”

“A man? You don't mean it?”

“Right in this very house. I've seen him myself. He comes late at night and goes to her room.”

That was all Twyla heard of the conversation, but that was enough. She was determined to find out the truth, thinking,
I don't want to judge her unjustly.

For two nights she sat up late waiting, but nothing happened. On the third night she was sitting quietly in a small room off the main hall. She heard someone coming down the steps and got up to peer down the darkened corridor. She saw at once that it was Heather and watched as she went to the front door and unlocked it. A man came in, and even in the dim light, Twyla recognized Sir George Beddington. She watched the two
as they went up the stairs, Heather clinging to him. Twyla went to her own room, and doubt filled her.
What can I do? Colin is so besotted with Heather he'll never believe anything like this!

For four days Twyla carried her guilty secret around, but finally she knew that she couldn't remain silent any longer. Adam had been gone for several weeks now, and early in the morning Twyla caught Colin as he was leaving to go to the hospital. “I—I have to talk to you, Colin. I've—got something bad to tell you.”

“You're not feeling ill again, are you?”

“No. It's nothing like that. It's about—about Heather.”

“What about her?” Colin's expression grew tense, exactly as Twyla had feared.

She dreaded speaking the truth, but she strongly felt that Colin needed to know. She faltered, then said, “She's having an affair with George Beddington.”

“I don't believe it!” Colin said, but doubt showed in his eyes. “How do you know? Who told you this?”

“I've seen him myself several times, coming to the house.”

“There's nothing wrong with a visit.”

“Colin, he comes sneaking in after midnight! Heather lets him in and takes him into her room. I've seen him, and the servants know about it.”

“I don't believe a word of it!” Colin said loudly.

“I saw them, I tell you!”

“You're just jealous of her! You always have been.”

Anger flared up in Twyla. Colin was impossible. She saw clearly that he was still infatuated with this woman. “You won't ever be free of her! I'm leaving this house!” she cried.

“What do you mean,
leaving
? How will you live?”

“I've got enough money from the books and the illustrations. I've told you the truth, and you think I'm a liar. I refuse to stay in a house with a man who thinks I lie.” She wanted to hurt him at that instant and said loudly, “I'm going to
marry Thomas!” She whirled and left the room, confused and angry.

The next day Twyla packed some of her things and started to leave the house, but Colin was waiting for her. He obviously had not slept and said at once, “I know I hurt your feelings, Twyla, and I'm sorry. But I just can't believe what you said.”

“That's because you're a fool, Colin. The Book of Proverbs talks about men who follow after strange women. It says her steps lead down to hell.”

“Where will you live?”

“There's a little house for rent over by the church. I heard the pastor talking about it. I'll live there. Good-bye, Colin.”

Colin saw the coldness in her eyes and said desperately, “Don't leave, Twyla, please! We can work this out!”

“You'll
never
work it out, Colin! You're blind about this woman. You always have been and you always will be!” She turned and left, ignoring his voice as he called after her.

April passed, then May, but Twyla saw Colin only at those times when she drew illustrations for his book. She saw that he was unhappy, and she also was aware that he was alone now with Heather. Twyla's suspicions grew dark, and she hated herself for it.

Late one afternoon, she was sitting by herself in front of the fire. She had adopted a cat she named Chester. He was a large, sleek gray cat with many scars from battles. He did love affection, though, and finally allowed Twyla to hold him in her lap. She was stroking him when the knock came at the door. She put the cat on the floor and got up to open the door. She was surprised to see Colin.

“I'm sorry to bother you,” Colin said stiffly.

Twyla could see that his face was pale and troubled.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

“Adam is back. They had a battle with a ship of war, and he
was terribly wounded. I need help to care for him. Will you come?”

Instantly Twyla said, “Of course. Let me get a few things.”

“Thank you, Twyla. I was sure you'd help,” he said. “I'm not sure he'll even live.”

“Don't say that! Let me get my things.”

Ten minutes later they were in the carriage, and Twyla asked for details about Adam's injury. “I'm worried sick, Twyla! A shell went off and put some metal in his side, but we were able to take that out. He hasn't spoken, or ever regained consciousness.”

“What does Dr. Teague say?”

“Just like me, he doesn't know what to say. I can tell he doesn't think Adam will live.”

“But he will live! He's got to!” Twyla said in a confident tone. “My parents are coming.” Colin turned to her, and she saw that his lips were trembling. She had never seen him distressed like this before! Impulsively she reached out and took his hand. At that moment she forgot all the problems they'd had, and all the anger she'd felt toward him. “It'll be all right, Colin, God won't let him die.” She felt his hands close on hers. “You'll see, Colin! God will give you wisdom and skill, just as He did when I was sick. You'll see, really you will!”

21

November 12, 1587

A
lthough Philip II of Spain was the most powerful ruler in all of Europe, a certain timidity in his character was revealed in his nervous mannerisms. The execution of Mary, Queen of Scots, had forced Philip to move ahead with a plan that others in his court had been urging for years—the conquest of England.

Philip now had little choice, for his advisors had assured him that the execution of Mary had brought all of the Catholic monarchs in Europe together against England. Philip realized that he had to take action. Late one night he sat in an oversized chair, his eyes blinking rapidly, evidence of his unsettled mind. He looked at the man who sat opposite him and had a moment's doubt, but he quickly buried it. “My dear Santa Cruz, I've called you here because you are obviously the commander who must lead in the matter of England. You're our foremost soldier, and I trust you completely.”

Don Álvaro de Bazán, Marquis of Santa Cruz, was an able soldier, the best in Spain. His record was impressive, but now there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “It will be a difficult undertaking, Your Majesty.” His voice was coarse, as was his bodily presence, but there was no questioning his ability as a leader or as a soldier.

Philip leaned forward. “I've come up with a plan, and I think it is God who has given it to me.”

“Indeed, I'm most anxious to hear it.” Santa Cruz himself was a nominal Catholic. This was required of any soldier who served under Spanish colors. He wasn't confident in Philip's ability to lead in a military manner, nor in “visions” that supposedly came from God.

“This is what we'll do,” Philip said eagerly, and his eyes brightened as he spoke, for he had thought much about this. “You will command the largest battle fleet ever gathered on the sea. It will be called
The
Invincible Armada
. Now, my dear Santa Cruz, we're very aware that our forces can easily defeat the English in any battle on land. Getting our forces to England, that's the problem.”

“It is indeed, Your Majesty. The Seahawks, as Elizabeth calls her admirals, may be heretics and ungodly men, but they are fine sailors! They also have new ships that are designed for the defense of the English coast.”

“It can be done,” Philip urged. “Here's my plan. You will sail in the Armada and you will meet with Alexander of Parma. You're well aware that he is one of the ablest soldiers on the continent, and he has promised to lead his large, well-equipped army against the English. You'll transport him and his army to the shores of England, and once they are landed, the English army will fall before our swords.”

Santa Cruz was silent for a moment, then nodded and said grimly, “It can be done, Your Majesty. We'll begin at once gathering an army to be transported and planning the sailing of the Invincible Armada. God will smile upon us!”

While Philip II was planning the battle that would destroy England, Queen Elizabeth wasn't idle. She'd called together those men in the navy she trusted most, those she called her Seahawks. She glanced around the room and studied them carefully.
Sir Francis Drake, the best of her fighting admirals, pleased Elizabeth well. She studied his tapered face with the tidy beard. He had glistening eyes, and Elizabeth knew that if she gave Drake his way, he would attack Spain immediately.

Elizabeth looked next at Lord Howard of Effingham, who would be admiral over the English fleet. He was an efficient man, though not the fighter that Drake was. Still, he was better organized and did not lack courage.

Elizabeth's glance moved on to John Hawkings and Martin Frobesher, two fine and experienced sailors, and she thought,
If any men alive can destroy the Armada, these four are the ones!

Lord Burghley, as usual, sat beside Walsingham. Now he said sharply, “We all know that the Spanish are engaged in ship building. There can be little doubt of this project.”

“Indeed, Your Majesty.” Drake leaned forward and his eyes seemed to burn into Elizabeth. “The Spanish have but one goal: to send a fleet and land an army on our shores. They must be stopped! If you permit me, I'll take a fleet now and destroy them in their own harbors.”